Wrong Way
by Princess Iria
Summary: WARNING: MALE SLASH CxM. Camus searches for his true love and Miklotov wonders what is happening to their friendship. Takes place before Suikoden II.
1. Friday Nights

Author's Note: This has male slash in it, though mostly at the end. Please don't read this story if you don't like it. I don't own the characters, so I'm allowed to get things wrong. Konami owns Suikoden II. There you go. 

[Friday Nights] 

"So do you want to do some extra training tonight?" asked the newly recruited black-haired knight, dressed only in a pair of training pants. He grabbed an old, white cotton shirt, pulling it over his smooth chest. His roommate and best friend with red-brown hair just sat on the bed, staring out of the window. 

"No. I have a date tonight with a girl named Melinda. Do you know her?" asked Camus. His left hand went up to smoothen his hair that had been previously combed into place. 

"Is she the same girl from last week?" Miklotov asked. He remembered a blonde-haired, short but slim girl knocking on his door while he was napping, who yelled at him for not answering her soon enough. She also liked to visit at night and talk to Camus while he tried to fall asleep. _She was just…annoying. I don't know how else to say it._

"No, that was Elissa. We didn't get along so well," Camus replied. A noticeable grimace formed on his face. 

"But you were with her for 3 months…right?" Miklotov said. 3 months of interrupted sleep and alienation from one's own room took a toll on Miklotov, though he didn't breathe a word of this to Camus. Instead, he pretended to be happy for them. _It's his business, anyway. I have no right to say anything._

"Yeah. She…just doesn't have the personality to match mine," Camus replied. Just then someone rapped on the door. _I was just going to ask him what he meant…_ Camus smiled and added, "She finally came." 

"Oh. So I guess I'll see you later, then," Miklotov responded. He watched as Camus stood up, gave himself one last check in the mirror, and walked swiftly to the door. "Have fun on your date," Miklotov added. Camus just gave him a nod, before opening the door and closing it with a firm pull. 

Miklotov frowned when he heard the new girl squealing at the sight of Camus. _I hope she's not like the previous one._ Finally after a long minute the two departed. Picking up his training sword, he crept out of his room and headed towards a two-hour long session of intense sword-work. 

***** 

"So how was it? I fell asleep before you came back," Miklotov asked in the afternoon that Saturday, when he finally saw Camus alone and awake. They sat together outside the steps of the knights' castle on a breezy but sunny day. Camus had just stopped to take a break, and Miklotov soon joined him on the steps. 

"It was okay…" Camus replied. Miklotov couldn't tell if he was relieved that she was gone or if he thought she made decent enough company. 

"What do you mean by that?" he asked to clarify the statement. To him it seemed that Camus was gone with Elissa for quite a bit of time. _I'd think that at least three hours with a girl would mean that you liked her._

"She wasn't very exciting," Camus added. "She liked to talk about herself." 

"Oh," Miklotov responded. He figured that he would find a girl like that pretty boring, if he had the liberty to choose a girl to date. Though if they wanted to see him, they would first run into his handsome roommate and then they would decide that the red-haired one was much more attractive. Of course it wasn't his friend's fault. 

"Well how was your training?" asked Camus, interrupting Miklotov's thoughts. 

"Good," Miklotov replied. He was slowly overcoming the weight of his new and heavier sword by practicing with a heavier blade in training. Then again, Camus did not even know that because he spent less time with Miklotov, especially now that he was dating. 

It was quite depressing to Miklotov to know that his only friend had more important priorities than spending time with his friend. It was partly his own fault; while Camus had grown likeable to most of the knights and the ladies of town, Miklotov delved farther into his books and his training. Especially ever since they became knights… 

"I think you should train more. We're knights now and we have the responsibility to protect people," Miklotov said, finally breaking the silence. Camus just laughed, and Miklotov felt as though Camus was reminding him how much of a social outcast he had become. 

"You know that we don't need to train all day to stay in shape, Mik," Camus replied. "Lighten up a bit. We're not going to die anytime soon." The response did not bring any sense of relief to Miklotov, who now feared for his friend's safety as well as wondered about his training. _His attitude isn't one that a knight should have. Especially for a fledgling._

"Of course…" he mumbled, pretending to humor him. Camus's eyebrows seemed to crease in wonder, but soon that expression disappeared. With a smile, Camus excused himself, saying that he needed to do something for a friend. Miklotov was left alone on the steps, his head now resting in his hands, lost in thought. 

***** 

_Why can't Camus understand that being a knight is his vocation and that he must take it seriously? Doesn't he know that he has no second chances?_

"Why are you out here by yourself?" asks a young girl in a blue dress, her brown hair braided in pigtails and swinging behind her. She held a small basket in one hand with some bread and flowers in the other. 

"I was taking a break," Miklotov answered, lifting his head to see her more clearly. _She's really a cute girl._

"Really?" she wondered, her eyes opening up wide. "Do you know my brother? He's also a knight," she squealed. She looked so excited to proclaim the fact that her brother was one of the best, or a Matildan knight. He hoped that her brother would never let her hopes down. 

"What group is he in?" Miklotov asked. He stood up to allow some busy residents to pass by him and realized just how small the girl was. _Is she six or seven? So young…_

"Oh, he's a red knight. His name is Drik," the girl replied. "He has brown hair like mine and blue eyes." 

"Uh, I don't know him," Miklotov reluctantly answered. "Perhaps my roommate might know him." 

"Well if you ever see him, tell him to come home sometime. And give him this piece of bread, okay? I baked it for him," the girl said, handing him the bread in her basket. Miklotov smiled. 

"I will," he replied. "And what is your name?" he asked. 

"Myrle," she said. Soon afterwards she had skipped her way out of sight and Miklotov was left with a piece of bread and no idea where he could find the person or even Camus. _Of course it is my job as a knight to be courteous to everyone…_

***** 

Unfortunately for Miklotov, finding out who Drik was wouldn't be an easy task. Camus seemed to be nowhere in sight, and finding the right man with brown hair and blue eyes was almost impossible in a place where so many had the exact same physical description. 

Seeing a note lying on the desk of their shared room, Miklotov knew that it meant Camus was out somewhere not in the premise. He picked up the note and began to read it. 

Miklotov - 

I'm going out again tonight, so don't wait for me to return. I'll be coming back late, so don't try to wake me up in the morning. 

Camus 

Miklotov sighed. _So much for finding Camus._ He took a moment to think before blindly running around, asking people if they knew Drik. Blindness has allowed him to search an hour for Camus's whereabouts only to lead to nowhere. Suddenly an idea came into his head. 

_How about his files? He might have a class list with the locations of each person's room…_ Miklotov knew that the blue knights gave out one such list so students could find each other when they needed help or had questions. He had actually used it once, to find out why his sparring partner hadn't shown up for a few days to train. 

_I may finally be in luck, for once._ Miklotov paused before opening up any of the folders. _It wouldn't be that much of a privacy invasion, would it? I do have a legitimate purpose._

He debated for one more moment before opening the first file carefully, making sure that he didn't destroy anything. 

To be continued… 


	2. Love at First Sight?

[Love at First Sight?] 

_I can't believe how disorganized Camus is! Where could he have put the file?_

Miklotov had spent probably an hour sifting through the miscellaneous files stored in Camus's desk drawer. _He has everything from tactics sheets to sword maintenance in the same folder!_ Though Miklotov may have sorted the files he came across, he hadn't found any kind of class list. 

Setting the useless folder aside, he picked up a worn looking blue notebook. Seeing no writing to identify the contents inside, Miklotov took a peak inside. The words "Journal" surprised him. 

_Camus had a journal?_ Unconsciously Miklotov began to scan the first few lines. He gasped when he found what the entry was about. Without a thought, he absorbed the rest of the entry. 

I think that it is about time that I wrote in here. Exactly a year ago, my best friend Miklotov gave this notebook to me as my birthday present. Though now since I've turned seventeen, I feel the need to write something down. It is something that I have wondered about for a few years now. 

Maybe no one even suspects this, but I am one of the biggest dreamers in the world. I dream about a world that is peaceful, a life full of everlasting happiness, and love. This last thing is the subject of this entry. I may be one of the most unrealistic people in the world, but I believe in love at first sight. Why? 

Well if I fell in love some other way, like through a close friendship or companionship, then the only candidate would be Miklotov, and that just isn't possible. I'm attracted to females, and he definitely isn't one. Dating only has supported this stand even more. It is sad to admit that I have dated six girls in only a few years, and no relationship lasted more than a few months. 

Maybe someone would say that I'm just too pessimistic in a sense, thinking dating doesn't work. Well the truth is that I really tried. A few of the girls I disliked right after the first date, but I stayed in the relationship, hoping that it would improve. This last one I even fooled Miklotov into thinking that we were doing well. If I am pessimistic, well then I have reasons. 

Sorry to leave so soon, but the dinner bell is ringing and Miklotov will wonder where I am. I promise to write more later. 

Miklotov found himself surprised multiple times through the entry. _Maybe I better reevaluate all of his actions…I might be missing the meaning of everything._ Closing the notebook, he noticed a slip of paper that had fallen out, probably from between the pages. 

It was the class list. Miklotov sighed. _Well, it's time to find Drik._

***** 

Miklotov woke up the next morning to find Camus snoring lightly next to him. Actually Camus had somehow wound up next to him, and was hugging him around the waist. Miklotov was a bit surprised at the warmth he felt from the embrace. _It's just because I want to be loved…_ He remembered the jealously he felt when Camus wrote about already dating 6 girls. _Of course no one likes me…_

Moving extra carefully so as to not disturb Camus, he managed to walk to his dresser without a creak. After pulling out some training clothes, he stepped on a file and slipped. 

_Shoot, did I wake Camus up?_ He then realized that he never put back the files he took out yesterday. Quickly he stuffed them back into the drawer, only to find Camus awake and looking at him. 

"Are you alright, Miklotov? It sounded like you fell down hard," he asked groggily. 

"Oh, I'm alright," Miklotov replied, smiling a bit. "I just tripped on some papers." He closed the desk drawer with his right hand. "I was putting them away, if you're wondering what the paper sound was." 

Camus seemed to nod, or so Miklotov imagined, but then he asked a few questions. "I was wondering what my papers were doing on the floor. Were you looking through them? Did you organize them? And why does my journal have bread crumbs?" he asked. 

Miklotov cleared his throat before responding. "I uh, was looking for a class list so I could give Drik some bread from his sister," he began. 

"So you were the one looking through my papers?" Camus asked. 

"Yes," Miklotov answered. "You're really disorganized, you know." 

"So then you organized them. I guess you also know why there are bread crumbs in my journal, am I correct?" Camus added. 

"Well, I…looked in your journal. By mistake. I couldn't tell what it was, so I read the first few lines and I…I ended up reading the whole entry. I'm really sorry," Miklotov confessed. 

Camus thought for a moment, probably trying to recall the subject of the entry, before smiling. The smile was genuine, to Miklotov's surprise, and then Camus asked, "What did you think about it?" 

"Well I actually never guessed at that romantic notion of yours," Miklotov admitted. "To think that I've known you for like 10 years and still had no clue. Though it made a lot of sense, everything that you wrote." 

"You didn't think my belief in 'love at first sight' was a bit unrealistic?" Camus wondered. 

"I…" Miklotov responded, "I wouldn't know. I…never really thought about it." 

Camus laughed. "You're lying," he said. "I know you have entertained the thought of a special person for a while." 

"So? No one likes me. It wouldn't matter," Miklotov replied. 

"No one likes you?" Camus exclaimed. "Mik, you're one of the best guys around. I bet a lot of girls would like you once they got to know you." 

"Well they don't think like you," Miklotov argued. "I mean, I've tried so many times, but I don't want to be rejected any more." 

Camus paused for a second before responding. "You know what? I'll find you someone. Count Friday night a night out," he replied. 

"Okay," Miklotov said, humoring him. "Then I can find out why you go out on so many dates," he added. 

"I don't go on as many as you think," Camus replied. "I mean, it's only a few days a week…oh, by the way, I have another date tonight." 

"See what I mean?" Miklotov said, laughing. Standing up, he stretched out his legs. "Well I better get to training. You can go back to sleep." 

Miklotov left, but not before seeing Camus crawl into the wrong bed again. _He's definitely out of it. Maybe I should put a sign on my bed in bold letters denoting my property…_ He shut the door and headed towards the dojo. 

_Oh well, I'll do that later._ He had already lost a half hour of precious training time anyway. 

To be continued… 


	3. A Date

[A Date] 

"I found her," Camus stated as he approached a tired Miklotov, who had just pulled himself under the sheets for bed. Miklotov gave him a genuinely confused face. Found her? Who is "her"? He was too tired and mentioned the first thing that came to his mind. 

"What? Your sword?" Miklotov mumbled, yawning. Camus had allowed one of the newer knights to hold his sword while he went to the bathroom during training today. "I told you not to give to someone you didn't know." 

Camus sighed. "No, Mik, I found your date. She'll be meeting you outside the castle at 7 PM tomorrow night," Camus corrected. He began to unbutton his training coat slowly, his slender fingers dancing around each golden button. 

"Well remind me tomorrow. I'm tired," Miklotov gumbled before closing the covers over himself. He vaguely remembered Camus walking back and forth a bit, but forgot the rest. He was probably sleeping soon enough. 

***** 

"Come on. Aren't you excited or something?" Camus asked when he saw Miklotov in the hallway on the way to the dining room. "Today you have your first date." 

"Oh really?" Miklotov exclaimed. Had Camus told him before? He had forgotten. "What's the girl's name?" 

"It's Theresa. Is there anything else you want to know?" Camus asked. Miklotov shook his head. 

"No. I'll find out when I get there," he replied. He locked his fingers together, stretching his arms above his head. A nice name…but it's not like… 

"Oh," Camus said, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you want to be surprised?" He probably wondered why Miklotov was diving in without knowing what she liked, etc. 

"It doesn't matter," Miklotov replied. I'll find out when I meet her. It's not like I'm going to…change…for her. 

"Miklotov, you should have a better attitude. She really wants to meet you," Camus said, stressing "really". Miklotov noticed the slight frown that traced Camus's lips. I guess he might be disappointed in me…he's the dating expert, anyway. 

"Okay," Miklotov muttered. Camus cocked his head to see if Miklotov was smiling, but Miklotov had soon changed his thoughts from the date to today's training. It wasn't a silent conversation to the dining hall; it was just a one-person debate with Miklotov rambling on what sword he should use next. Of course Miklotov didn't notice Camus's silence. 

***** 

"Do I look okay?" Miklotov asked as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Camus stood behind him, dressed up as well, and smiled. 

"Mik, you look fine. You're going to do well tonight," he said. He put his rough hand on Miklotov's left shoulder and whispered, "Just be yourself." 

Miklotov said nothing. He felt a bit warm with Camus's reassuring words, but that soon didn't matter when someone knocked on the door. Miklotov started feel a bit nervous as Camus walked swiftly to the door, opened it, and shut it firmly behind him. 

Miklotov was a bit confused when after half a minute or so he was still alone in the room and Camus was still talking to the person outside. It's seven o'clock right now. Isn't my date supposed to be here? 

Finally after some time, Camus opened the door again. Next to him stood a blonde-haired, pretty girl with a blue dress on. "Hello. Are you Theresa?" asked Miklotov politely. 

"Yes. Nice to meet you," she replied. Miklotov walked up to her slowly and took her hand. "I'll see you later, Camus," the girl replied before the two left. Camus smiled back and mouthed "Good luck" to Miklotov. Miklotov was confused when the girl said she would see Camus later, but did not dwell long on it. He had more important things to do. 

The two entered the famous Rockaxe restaurant hand in hand. Camus had already secured them a reservation, and they were led to a secluded spot of the restaurant, close to the windows and a view of the sunset. The waiters served them the best dishes in the restaurant, because Miklotov insisted. The girl seemed to smile the whole time, so Miklotov forced himself to return it. When the food finally arrived, Miklotov was amazed at the tenderness of the meat, which was obviously much better than any food he had before. He took one conservative bite and felt the seasoning sting his taste buds. He would have stuffed his face like a ravenous beast if not for Theresa sitting across from him. After swallowing completely the first few pieces of meat that he had cut off, he asked, "So how is the food?" 

"It's good," she replied, poking at her beef. She took another tiny slice while Miklotov sipped his ice water. 

"That's nice," he replied. The small conversation that he had brought up seemed to fall back down again. An uncomfortable silence pervaded as Miklotov wondered what to say next. He proceeded to out the window as the last bits of the sun vanished beneath the trees around Rockaxe. 

"Um, what do you do everyday?" he asked Theresa, looking back at her. She had cleanly finished her portion of meat and now chewed on some vegetables. 

"I'm a maid," she replied after swallowing the piece. "You're a knight obviously," she added. 

"Yes," Miklotov answered. He wondered where she was going with this. 

"I always think that knights are the best of men," she added. Miklotov smiled. It was a compliment too him, and nothing more. 

"We try our best to protect Matilda. That is our duty," Miklotov responded. 

She smiled, but it seemed like she was frowning at the same time. It seemed impossible, but yet that was what Miklotov was seeing. Did I give the wrong response? I did answer her question… 

"How long do you train everyday?" she then asked, flipping her hair. Her plate was completely clean, and Miklotov guessed she had saved her appetite for some kind of dessert. He felt a bit embarrassed to be eating still while she watched him. 

"Maybe 5 or so hours," Miklotov guessed. "I train before breakfast by myself and with the others," he added. That sounds about right…2 hours before breakfast, 3 with the others… 

"You're dedicated," she replied. "Do you do anything else?" she then asked. 

"Not really," Miklotov replied. "What about you?" 

"I like to read romance novels," she responded unashamedly. "Have you heard of the book Destiny?" 

Miklotov hesitantly answered, "Um…no. I don't read that much." Just then, the waiter asked if the couple wanted desert. Miklotov didn't care for desert, but Theresa ordered a slice of white cake. When the waiter left again, Miklotov continued. "If I do, it's tactical stuff," he added. He thought he saw disgust cross her features, but her smile was present on her lips as usual, so he berated himself for imagining things during the middle of the date. 

The table was silent once again. Miklotov told himself that he didn't want to disturb Theresa while she gobbled her white cake, but in truth he had nothing to say. After Theresa finished the cake, Miklotov paid the bill and the two left the restaurant, this time not hand in hand. When they were outside, Theresa pulled him off to the side. 

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're a really boring person. Think about improving that before you go on another date," she said. The statement confused Miklotov, who thought he did okay because she had smiled the whole time. 

"You won't see me again?" he asked, feeling a bit desperate. I failed? Suddenly he had turned this date into a mission, just like a mission he would do for the knights. 

"Nope. Goodbye," she said. Without even a wave she turned around swiftly and stalked off. She left no time for a second chance. 

"Goodbye," he mumbled before clenching his fists together. Strangely he was not angry with her or with himself but with Camus. How can he raise my hopes up? To think that someone would like me… 

He resisted punching the wall. Damn you, Camus. Damn you. With each repetition his fist clenched harder, until his nails imprinted themselves on the palms of his hands. 

Deciding to return home, he stalked off silently, mindlessly finding his way to the castle. He went into the room and found Camus asleep, curled up in HIS bed, looking as peaceful as an angel. That scene somehow cooled his temper as he gently lifted Camus from his bed and tucked him in the correct one. 

Oh, I forgot that he said that she really wanted to "meet" me, not that she liked me. He could never accuse Camus of anything, not matter what happened. It was unjustified, anyway, to blame Camus when he was the one who twisted the words. 

Miklotov threw the covers over his face and tried to fall asleep. 

To be continued… 


	4. Mixed Signals

[Mixed Signals] 

It was morning, and against his wishes, the birds chirped just as happily as if nothing happened the night before. Shielding his eyes from the light, Miklotov groaned, soaking in sweat and ready for a shower. Camus, on the other hand, had just woken up from a deep slumber and was still rubbing his eyes. 

"So how was the date?" Camus asked Miklotov who was looking for a towel. Miklotov intentionally avoided the question and didn't even acknowledge the question. "It didn't go so well?" Camus then asked, seeing that his partner was not talking. 

Miklotov turned around and glared at him, much to Camus's surprise. "I'm 'boring', Camus," he spat out. "Even you don't want to talk to me." 

Camus seemed hurt by the statement, but Miklotov didn't care. "What do you mean?" he asked. Miklotov glanced at the door before returning his gaze to Camus, who now was standing up. 

"You have a date tonight, don't you?" Miklotov said, knowing the answer already. 

"Well, yeah…" Camus began, but Miklotov cut him off. 

"Well that's why," Miklotov responded, walking to the door and turning the knob. He felt a sense of urgency…he knew that if he stayed longer, he bend over and listen to Camus like he shouldn't have done before. 

"Mik…wait a minute!" Camus shouted to his back. Miklotov responded by firmly shutting the door. The sound had somewhat of a pleasant sound to Miklotov's ears as he whistled his way to the bathing house. 

***** 

_The funny thing is that he is going out with the same girl I did the night before. Talk about not being attractive._

Miklotov stood behind a brick wall, eavesdropping on Camus's date. He was just returning from training when he had seen her come in to Camus's room. Spying from a corner he saw her leave with him, her hand in his. Unlike how they had silently exited last night, tonight the girl was already rambling on about some subject. 

Miklotov followed them quietly on the way to the restaurant. He was jealous over the amount of affection Camus already received in the first few minutes. She was walking awfully close to Camus and many times whispered into his ear. 

Suddenly he heard his name. The girl was talking about the date she had last night. Miklotov scowled as he listened to what she said. _Look at this girl trash me. He's even nodding to her._ At first, he was ready to doubt that Camus would truly do that…would truly think the same way that the girl did. Though with each affirmative nods he became more and more disgusted. _I'm going back. I can't watch this anymore._

Miklotov trudged back to the room, feeling angry. _So that's how he really feels. Well I'll show him what he's missing._

However, as the moon's white gaze swept over the city and Camus did not return, Miklotov began to feel less angry and more depressed. _I guess I don't amount to much. He won't be missing much by losing me._

Miklotov kicked up his covers and forced himself to fall asleep. 

***** 

"Miklotov…" someone whispered with a strained voice. Miklotov first dismissed it as a figment of his imagination but when the person started shaking him, he almost hit the person. He found that the voice belonged to Camus, who was hovering over him, his hands on his shoulder. 

"Why are you shaking me?" Miklotov asked grumpily. If it wasn't an emergency, Miklotov was probably going to punch Camus. _Considering all he has done…_

"Please sleep next to me tonight," he whispered. Miklotov looked annoyed. _Is he a child or something? Expecting me to bend to his will each time?_ Though it was a strange request, especially since Camus hadn't slept in the same bed with him since they were 10. 

"Why?" Miklotov asked, refusing to get up. 

"Just…do," Camus replied quietly. "Please," he said pleadingly, but did more of the pleading with his eyes. _I can't believe I'm letting myself do this…_

"Okay…" Miklotov mumbled, crawling out of bed, but Camus instead curled inside Miklotov's bed, his weight sinking the bed a bit. _Okay…one more time. That's it._

He fell asleep, but not before noting that Camus had wrapped his arms around Miklotov's waist, hugging him like a stuffed animal. 

***** 

Miklotov returned from practice to find Camus awake and fully dressed for once. After a brief hello, Camus said nothing of importance and Miklotov paid no mind. Instead he was lost in his thoughts. _He didn't even remember._ Camus was now talking about the weather and Miklotov did not care. _Then why do I feel disappointed?_

"Miklotov?" Camus prodded, probably noticing that Miklotov had shut his ears to him a while ago. 

"Oh Camus, how was Theresa?" Miklotov asked. 

Camus seemed shocked that Miklotov knew the girl's identity. "Oh Theresa… She was really nice," he replied. Miklotov sighed. _I knew that already…_

"Oh," Miklotov mumbled, making a motion to leave. Camus, unlike last time, physically stopped Miklotov by grabbing his wrist. Miklotov turned around and looked at him blankly. 

"What's wrong?" Camus asked, refusing to let Miklotov leave before answering. 

"Nothing," Miklotov replied. He broke free of Camus's grasp and stalked out the room before Camus could say a word. At a hurried pace he reached the dining room and found a place where he would not have to sit with Camus. He noticed that Camus kept looking at him during the meal, but he avoided the looks by staring down at his place. He successfully avoided him on his way to training, and when he reached the dojo, he felt relieved. _Good job so far._

***** 

"Can I have a moment with you, Miklotov?" the instructor asked Miklotov while he was taking a water break from drills. The man was a well-built, a brunette with short hair, blue eyes, and a big mouth. 

"Yes?" Miklotov said when he was pulled aside to a more private place. 

"I want you to go to Muse to deliver a message for me," said the man. Miklotov waited to hear an elaboration, a more detailed explanation of the mission, but it didn't come. 

"Is that it?" Miklotov asked, chastising himself for sounding like a fledgling. 

"Bloodthirsty, Miklotov? You have ways to go before you see real combat," the man laughed. Miklotov knew that the man would misinterpret his tone but felt no need in correcting the man's misconception. 

"Oh," Miklotov replied. He looked around him, a bit uncomfortable now because others were wondering why he was talking to the instructor. 

"Well actually I must compliment you on how you are doing so far," the man said, surprising Miklotov. "You are by far the best student I've had in years," he commented. "I think you should take a break." 

"Thank you, sir," Miklotov politely replied. It was a great honor to receive such words of praise from such a tough man, and Miklotov relished it. 

"Don't be so stiff. I won't hurt you," the man laughed, patting Miklotov's back. Then seeing that the students were quietly waiting for his instructions, he said, "Oh, I have to go back and lead those rambunctious new ones. Be ready to leave tomorrow." 

"Yes sir," Miklotov immediately replied. He took one last sip of water before he too went to pick up his sword for another drill. 

***** 

Camus entered the room while Miklotov was throwing in the last things that he needed for his trip. The red-head looked confused and asked, "Miklotov, why are you packing?" 

"Uh…" Miklotov began, but stopped. He had decided to avoid talking to Camus as much as possible. If Camus didn't want to be his friend, then he wouldn't share the good news with him. 

"You're leaving?" Camus guessed. He almost looked scared…as if he was losing something special. Miklotov didn't care to discern what it exactly was…he'd get it wrong anyway. 

"To Muse," he answered curtly. He closed up the sack with the provisions and then threw the bag into a corner. 

"Muse?" Camus repeated, probably wanting clarification. 

"For a mission," Miklotov said dryly. He refused to look at Camus but stared at the floor beneath his feet. 

"Congratulations, Mik! That's awesome," Camus said as he approached Miklotov. 

"To deliver a message," Miklotov added. Camus stopped where he was and realized that there wasn't much skill involved for that task. 

"Oh," he said, but still proceeded in walking towards Miklotov. 

"Yes," Miklotov continued. "Not everything is so great, is it?" he said, turning around to face Camus. 

Camus sighed. "Come on Mik, you'll get a better mission next time," he said, smiling. 

Though Miklotov did not return the smile but frowned. "Right," he said sarcastically. "I'll get a girlfriend, a friend who won't betray me, and good missions." 

The room was silent for a few seconds until Camus suddenly shouted, "Miklotov!" 

"I can't believe you went out with Theresa right after you set me up with her!" Miklotov shouted angrily, turning away from Camus and heading towards the door. Camus waved his hands around and shook his head. 

"Miklotov, that's not it…" he said, probably trying to plead with Miklotov. 

Miklotov glared back at him. "What is it then?" he asked Camus. "I think it is clear enough." 

With that, he slammed the door and ran away from the problem…ran away from Camus. 

***** 

_I won't be seeing you in a while…can you believe it? We'll be separated for more than a few days._ He stared down at Camus's dormant shape, curled up in the sheets that covered the bed. In the morning he would say goodbye to the same shape, probably rolled over on the other side of the bed. The thought made Miklotov laugh inside, but his lips remained firm, thus disallowing any sound to escape. 

"I'm going to miss you Camus," whispered Miklotov before he shut his eyes. _Though you wouldn't miss me at all, would you?_ He would have to wake up extra early tomorrow to have a head start towards Muse. 

To be continued… 


	5. Never Was Broken

[Never Was Broken] 

_Mission accomplished. Now all I have to do is hurry back to the castle and show how simple the task was._ These were Miklotov's thoughts as he ran through the forests of Matilda. If he wasn't training with the sword, he was at least training his body. His body ran without command through the terrain that he memorized as a boy. He only had to take a quick glance down divergent paths to figure out which one to take. After he cleared the forest he took a walking break as he traveled though the grassy plains. 

_It has been 3 days since I left. I wonder what I've missed._ The first thing that came to mind was Camus's face, but Miklotov quickly banished the image and replaced it with the dojo. He imagined people sparring, but in one corner there stood Camus, alone and watching the others. _Why do I still think of him? He doesn't care…_

As he neared the wall around Rockaxe, he began to hear some voices. It sounded like two guys about his age, but he didn't recognize either person's voice. 

"There he is," the first one whispered to the other, Miklotov guessed. He hadn't seen them yet and had no idea who they were referring to. He decided to keep walking, but a bit more cautiously and quietly. 

"We aren't all here yet," the other one replied. He seemed younger, but not much. 

"That's okay. I'll get him while you retrieve the others," the first one assured him. Miklotov heard the other one scurry away and looked around to see where the person was headed to. Seeing no one, he proceeded through the entrance of Rockaxe. Miklotov didn't anticipate being tackled on his first step inside. The person smashed him into the ground with his body weight and grabbed Miklotov's wrists. 

"Who are you?" Miklotov asked, trying to tear his hands free from the attacker. 

"Don't you recognize me?" the man replied, laughing. "Your enemy, of course." Miklotov broke away from the grip by swinging the guy off of him. The man lunged towards him again, but Miklotov dodged the attack. 

Even after seeing his face, Miklotov still did not know who the guy was, but pretended that he did. "Why are you going after me?" he asked. 

"You were the one sent on the mission, right?" the man said. Miklotov managed to avoid most of the punches that the man threw blindly at him and refused to fight back. He had nothing against the guy, and Miklotov hoped that the guy would burn himself out. "Answer me!" the guy demanded, managing to kick the side of Miklotov's right leg. 

"Yes…" Miklotov replied. The guy was no ordinary attacked. He seemed to have been trained…maybe a knight? Was this guy perhaps jealous? 

"Teacher's pet! You want to take my position, but you won't get it. You won't be captain!" the man cried. "All he talks about is you. How good you are, how dedicated. It's my job! I'll do anything to beat you!" 

Just then another four guys arrived on the scene, probably the man's friends. "We'll help, Frank," they said. Miklotov knew he really had to escape now, but two of them grabbed his arms while the other two administered punches and kicks everywhere. Miklotov winced in pain as now each punch and kick hit his chest, his stomach, his legs, his face. Miklotov was ready to scream for Camus, but then he remembered that Camus couldn't hear him. _How long will this last….I won't last for too much longer._

Finally the men were finished with the beating. "I'm not going to kill you. Just scar you enough to humiliate you," the first man said, laughing. It soon spread to the rest of the group as Miklotov was dropped to the ground to lay in pain, marked in black and blue. 

"Just think what the teacher will say now," one of the guys said. "You can return now and he'll think you're too weak that you were beaten up badly by easy monsters or you can come in later and he'll wonder why it took you so long to return. Either way you're screwed." 

_I can't believe this…_ Miklotov watched as the men left. _Two options indeed. Well I'm going to limp my way to the castle if I have to, just to show them how powerful I am!_

First he had to get to his feet. Crying out in pain as he tried to push himself with his arms, he returned to his position on the ground. _I'll rest a minute first._

***** 

_One more step until the castle, Miklotov! Then you can take a rest._ Miklotov stumbled his way into the castle before falling to the ground. _This can't be all…this won't be all! I'm going to get to my room…_

Just then he saw a flash of red dart down the stairs. Was the person heading towards him? "Be careful!" Miklotov warned, thinking it was impossible for one person to go down the steps that fast if he was taking only one at a time. 

"Miklotov?" the person said. Miklotov's heart leaped at the sound of the voice. _Camus!_ Like a madman Camus rushed over to Miklotov. "I was too late?" 

"Too late for what?" Miklotov wondered. He had no clue what Camus was talking about. 

"She knew! She knew they were going to attack you and she knew that I never hit ladies. She stalled me!" Camus rambled. Miklotov was even more confused. 

"Wha…" he began, but Camus silenced him. Camus lifted him up as gently as possible and began to walk up to their room. 

"I'll explain everything to you when we get back. Just relax for now," Camus said. He began to hum a song and to Miklotov's embarrassment, even began to rock him. 

"Camus!" Miklotov hissed. Camus laughed. He continued to sing and rock Miklotov, and Miklotov was powerless to stop him. 

"You just have to take advantage of the situation when one comes up," Camus commented. Miklotov glared at him. _I can't believe that this…trickster…is my friend! Yet why do I feel so nice in his arms…_

What was even worse was that Miklotov fell asleep. He remembered trying to grab Camus's hair before succumbing to the singing and rocking. He was tired anyways. 

***** 

"You awake now?" Camus asked. Miklotov was surprised to be tucked in the bed and to see Camus smiling down on him. The drapes for the window were pulled down as well, so Miklotov guessed that it was night already. "I snuck in some leftovers from dinner," he said. 

"What?" Miklotov exclaimed. He didn't want to get Camus in trouble. Camus laughed at his surprised look. 

"Just kidding. Your teacher allowed me to bring it up for you," Camus said. 

"The teacher?" Miklotov wondered. _Did he know what happened…_

"I explained everything to him, Miklotov. Those guys who beat you up will be kicked out if they ever do that again. Plus you get a whole week off," Camus explained to Miklotov. Miklotov couldn't take it in all at once. 

"So I don't have training tomorrow?" Miklotov asked. Camus nodded. "But then…" 

"Take a break, Mik," Camus laughed. "You'll be fine without the training." He fed Miklotov a spoon of soup. "That was the only thing that Theresa got right about you." 

"Theresa?" Miklotov repeated. _So I wasn't boring, unsociable, ill-mannered…in Camus's mind?_

"I never did explain the truth about her and I, did I?" Camus said, gauging Miklotov's expression as one of confusion. "Be prepared for a long tale…let me feed you first…um…" 

"Just start, Camus," Miklotov said. Camus fed him another large scoop before beginning. 

"Well I had promised you that you would have someone by Friday, right? Well I was surprised by how many girls didn't like you at all. I mean, you're a great guy and I would have no problem going out with you if I was a girl. Anyway, by Thursday I was a bit desperate, so I asked Theresa. She said she would go out with you, but she wanted a date with me if she didn't like you. I thought that made sense, because we aren't the same person." 

He gave Miklotov another scoop of soup before continuing, "Then when Friday came, she didn't want to go out with you even once. I convinced her to try anyway. She told me how she didn't like you and thought of you as boring and stuff and I nodded my head, thinking that she wouldn't be a good match for me. Though for some reason she thought I was great and was extremely nice to me. I was confused by this." 

Camus stood up and stretched as he took a break from talking. "Um…you were also really mad at me. Let's see…that night I had a bad nightmare about you dying and…yeah. Then after you left I overheard her talking to a friend of hers. She was telling her how she was going out with me but I refused to let her go further. She said it was because of my friendship with you. That's all I heard before she saw me. Then I also heard how some guys were mad when they heard you were sent on a 'mission'. I was afraid for your safety, so I planned to look out for you when you came back. But that day Theresa made a surprise visit. When I told her that I needed to leave, because I was sure that you were back, she didn't let me leave. I tried to ask her to step aside politely, but she refused. I really wanted to punch her, but I couldn't. She kept smiling and refusing my requests for her to let me leave. She knew that I didn't punch women and used it against me. Finally I decided that it didn't matter what kind of gentleman code I had, I was going to hit her. She noticed my first coming towards her and immediately fled. I took this opportunity to escape and I almost ran over you if you didn't call out my name…" 

Miklotov took a while to digest all of that, and figured that it made sense. _Maybe I should have let him explain everything to me._ His previous statements made sense too. Though one little thing needed clarification. 

"Was she related to any of the men who beat me up?" Miklotov asked. 

"Yeah. She was the leader's sister. He wanted to screw both of us over by making you seem weak and making me look irresponsible," Camus replied. 

"Make you look irresponsible? What do you mean by that?" Miklotov wondered. 

"That's where Theresa fit in. He was hoping that she would seduce me and then say I was sexually harassing her," Camus explained. 

"Well that was a lot. It could have worked," Miklotov said. Camus looked a bit hurt, but Miklotov hadn't finished talking. "If we weren't who we are, it would have worked." 

Camus smiled. "If we weren't friends, we would have both been screwed," he replied. "I'm glad we're friends," he added. 

"Me too," Miklotov responded. _You don't know how much this means to me, Camus._

Miklotov finished his meal and began his week of recuperation. 

To be continued… 


	6. Change of Heart

[Change of Heart] 

It had been two weeks now, and the two best friends were lounging in some grassy fields outside of Rockaxe. The castle could be seen from where they lay, but Miklotov didn't know exactly how far out they were. After much protest from Camus, Miklotov insisted that he do something for Camus, and he decided to treat Camus to a picnic lunch. Camus was a bit surprised at the gesture, which hurt Miklotov a bit. Did Camus think that Miklotov was incapable of such small acts of kindness? He wondered just how out of touch they were since their last time alone. 

"Hey Mik, look at those clouds over there!" Camus said suddenly, breaking Miklotov out of his thoughts. 

"What about them?" Miklotov grumbled. He tried to figure out what was so special about those clouds that Camus would tell him to look at them. To him they looked like the normal, white and fluffy puffballs that usually accompanied a bright, sunny day. Suddenly he felt fingers against his waist, constantly but lightly brushing his skin through his shirt. "Hey, are you trying to tickle me?" Miklotov said. 

Camus laughed and moved his fingers up and down Miklotov's sides. Miklotov rolled around, annoyed by those fingers, but not really squirming or giggling at the touch. After a while, Camus stopped. "Okay, I give up," he sighed. "I guess you're official declared unticklish." 

"Unticklish? Is that a word?" Miklotov asked, teasing Camus over his choice of words. 

Camus shot him a glare. "Shut up!" He shouted, smiling. He plopped himself next to Miklotov, who was staring at the sky. "Anyway, I need to find your weakness." 

Miklotov rolled over to look at Camus with a confused expression. "Why?" he wondered. 

"Because you're beating up everyone in training," Camus answered. He smirked. "I heard that even the teacher fears you." 

Miklotov laughed and playfully hit his friend. "You're exaggerating," he responded. 

"I would never!" Camus said slyly, earning a glare from Miklotov. The two were suddenly silent as a flock of birds squabbled nearby. When Camus finally scared them away, he said softly, "Mik, you trust me, right?" 

"Of course!" Miklotov immediately replied. He paused and turned way from Camus for a second before adding, "I regret not listening to you when that mess came about…" 

Camus turned his friend over to face him. "Don't feel bad about it," he said. "I would have done the same thing." He smiled and sat up. "I'd probably still be mad," he added. 

"But you don't hold grudges…" Miklotov protested, sitting up as well. He stretched his arms above his head and did tiny arm-circles to loosen up his back. 

Camus followed suit before stretching out his fingers. "I'm still mad at Theresa," he stated. He now squeezed his hands tightly. "I don't know if I could restrain myself if I saw her again." 

"Is that the reason why you aren't dating right now?" blurted Miklotov before he thought. He covered his mouth in embarrassment. _Now if my mouth didn't run away at the worst times..._ Though he was expressing something that he had wondered about for the past two weeks. Two weeks without a single date, nor even a word about a girl, was a bit strange for Camus, considering the previous trend. To him, it seemed like Camus was almost trying to compensate for the incident. Miklotov always insisted that Camus hadn't done anything wrong, but Camus seemed to feel guilty nonetheless. 

"What?" Camus said before shaking his head. "No, that's not why." _Then what is?_ Miklotov watched as Camus stretched his neck and tapped his own fingers in thought. Finally Camus spoke. "Can't I spend some quality time with you without any other reason besides I want to be there?" he said. Miklotov looked at him, a bit thrown off. _Is he trying to change the subject or not?_

Miklotov decided to throw a question back at him. "Is taking care of an injured person interesting?" Miklotov responded, figuring that Camus would respond with something witty and lighten up the mood. 

"Yes, especially when I can insult him and he can't fight back," Camus replied, smirking. Despite the knowledge that something like that would come from Camus's lips, Miklotov still couldn't repress his hand from smacking Camus lightly. Camus yelped, and Miklotov smirked in victory. Though he knew that Camus wouldn't let him get away with that. 

Just then Camus hit him back just as hard in his right arm. "Hey!" Miklotov shouted. He rubbed the spot with annoyance. Camus smiled. 

"Got you!" he said. Then returning to the previous conversation, he added, "Plus, you're more exciting then any girl I've met." 

"Oh…" Miklotov muttered unintentionally. He thought of how Theresa said he was boring even though she smiled at him the whole time. 

"Don't worry about what Theresa said," Camus said, reading Miklotov's thoughts by the darkening of his eyes. "There are plenty of other girls out there," he assured Miklotov. Miklotov couldn't help but hear the word "girls" repeated over in his head. _Why girls?_

"Girls…" Miklotov groaned, trying to stop that word from cycling in his head. He didn't realize that he had muttered that aloud until he noticed Camus staring at him. 

"What's wrong with girls?" Camus wondered. Miklotov scratched his head. What was he thinking about, anyway? _You don't want to tell Miklotov that you don't really like girls, do you?_ Miklotov wanted the debate in his head to stop for now, so he decided on a plain response. 

"Nothing," he said nonchalantly, though it probably looked suspicious to Camus, because he didn't waste the opportunity to prod further. 

"Hey, Mik, I'm your friend now. You're supposed to tell me everything," Camus whined. Miklotov tried his best to avoid telling Camus, because it was a secret. 

The perfect idea popped up in his head, and Miklotov didn't hesitate to use it as a distraction. "You haven't redeemed yourself yet," he said, smirking. 

"Oh," Camus replied, his face falling. Miklotov felt guilty for not telling Camus what bothered him, but he figured that he would tell Camus soon enough if that look stayed on his face. Though he knew that beneath that "sad" face, Camus was plotting something. It didn't take long for that to happen. Suddenly Camus was on his knees, his head bent towards the ground. "Oh, Miklotov. Please forgive me!" he cried with fake emotion. "I'll be your slave for another week if you want me to…" 

Miklotov laughed at Camus. "You liked being my slave," he said, interrupting Camus. 

Camus was silent for a few seconds, but soon another idea entered his head. "Uh…how about this. I'll give you back massages and tuck you into bed…" he said. 

"Camus!" Miklotov exclaimed, pretending to look hurt. Camus was surprised at the sight before Miklotov continued, "You're looking for an excuse to attack me." Miklotov smirked knowing that he had used Camus's previous comment against him. 

Camus wasn't going to stop there, however. "I'll polish your sword so that it looks as good as mine…" he proposed. 

"Now you are just insulting me. Forgive you indeed…" Miklotov huffed, pretending to be mad. Camus kept looking at him with a childish pouting expression, and Miklotov almost fell for the trap. _Those eyes…they're pretty…_ Miklotov was so relieved that Camus didn't hear that thought. It would have made this whole verbal battle a waste. 

Miklotov turned away from Camus and admired the peaceful sight of grass being blown in the wind. _I wish life was as simple as this._ He didn't know how much time had passed, but he guessed that it was nearing supper time. Standing up, he glanced at Camus, who had followed suit and was brushing off his pants. 

"Let's go back for now," Miklotov said, picking up his bag. Camus, however, grabbed his arm and prevented him 

"You never told me what was wrong," Camus said. Miklotov looked down at his feet, feeling bad. Of course Camus would have remembered something like this. He knew he shouldn't run, but he didn't like being unprepared like he felt now. But would it matter? If Camus was his friend, he wouldn't mind aimlessly rambling and confusion, would he? _He'd probably help…_

Still, Miklotov felt unsure about telling Camus. "Well, don't tell anyone else, okay?" he whispered finally. 

"I promise," Camus assured him. He let go of Miklotov's hand, knowing that Miklotov could run, but also that Miklotov would stay anyway. 

"Well, I'm beginning to think that I'm not interested…in girls," Miklotov admitted. Camus looked shocked, and Miklotov felt a blush about to spread across his cheeks. 

"Don't tell me that Theresa…" he began, but Miklotov cut him off with a wave of his hand. He stared at Camus and pleaded for him to understand. "I'm sorry," apologized Camus as soon as he realized that Miklotov had thought about this for a while. 

"I just can't understand what's so attractive about them," Miklotov began. "I mean, I don't go for the body, and I rather not here their fake, high-pitched voices…" 

Camus interrupted, saying, "But girls are much kinder than us. They're innocent and loyal…" 

"Aren't you?" Miklotov said, cutting Camus off. Miklotov sort of expected Camus to react this way to his previous statement, but he had secretly wished that Camus would have been less attached to the greatness of women. 

"Huh?" Camus muttered, having lost his train of thought after being so inconveniently stopped. Miklotov took this opportunity to continue what he was saying before. 

"Men can be just like women," Miklotov added. "They're usually stronger, braver, and honorable." Remembering the knights who beat him up, he clarified, "Well at least most of the knights are." He paused to breathe. "I just find myself more likely to…fall in love with one of them, if I use the correct words," he concluded. 

Camus seemed to understand, but then his next statement took Miklotov aback. "Are you sure you're going to completely rule out women?" he said. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with liking both…" 

"I already have someone in mind," Miklotov confessed involuntarily. He covered his mouth, but he couldn't retract his words. 

"Really? Who is it?" Camus wondered. 

"Uh…" Miklotov began. He blushed, knowing that he could not wheedle himself out of this one. "Well, I don't really like him in that way," he said, "but he is the model for someone I would want." 

Camus stared at him, not satisfied with the answer. Miklotov had given himself a bit more time to think, which he spent wondering how Camus would react. What if Camus didn't like the answer? What would happen to their friendship? He saw horror creep over Camus's face at the realization that his friend was in love with him romantically. Wait, did he just imply that he loved Camus in that way? Miklotov didn't know if he did, but it could clearly be implied…and Camus tended to be a bit quick to conclude things. 

Camus was still staring at him when the words formed. Ever so slowly he supplied the air to his vocal chords, to speak those words that were so simple to say at any other time. With a deep breath, Miklotov looked Camus in the eye and said, "It's you." 

Not waiting to see the response, Miklotov sprinted back to Rockaxe and hoped Camus wouldn't catch up with him anytime soon. 

To be continued… 


	7. Running Away

[Running Away] 

Miklotov could not bring himself to look at Camus after that incident. He figured that for now, avoiding Camus would save himself from doing something stupid like confessing his more than platonic friendship feelings towards Camus. He did know that he shouldn't keep secrets from Camus, but what if a secret destroyed the friendship between them? He would rather have an imperfect relationship than to have no relationship at all. Especially since their friendship had just revived a week before. 

So as Miklotov perused the weapon shop in order to spend as much of his free time away from his room, he was startled by the sound of heavy footsteps. The person seemed to approach him, and sounded so much like Camus that Miklotov had to turn around and see who it was. He almost crashed into the weapons display behind him as he involuntarily stepped back at the sight. 

The man before him, with his reddish-brown hair and brown eyes, laughed at Miklotov's shock. "Am I that intimidating?" he said with a smirk. Miklotov forced himself not to blush in embarrassment. The low, smooth rumbling of the man's voice reminded him of Camus, but it was a bit darker. "Or am I just so attractive that you are startled?" Seeing Miklotov even more flustered, he stopped jesting and put out his hand. "I'm Red, by the way." 

"Red?" Miklotov blurted. Chuckling nervously he rambled, "Your parents aren't very original with names." Shaking the man's hand, he said, "I'm Miklotov." 

"Nice name for a knight," Red commented. "Looking for a sword? The ones in that rack are too easy for you, you know." 

Miklotov turned to look at the sword rack and noticed that he had owned a similar sword a year ago. "I know," he said. Clearing his throat, he looked the taller man in the eye and said, "I was waiting for someone like you to come by." 

Red smiled. "Are you flirting with me?" he asked. Miklotov smirked to himself. _Wow. I didn't know that I had that in me._

"Maybe I am," Miklotov replied smoothly. "But I know I'd like to see you again." 

"But I just met you," Red protested. Miklotov just smiled at him and went towards the expensive two-handed sword display. He picked out a sword for himself and a longer one for Red. Red was surprised when Miklotov presented it to him. 

"You know the type of sword already?" Red wondered. Miklotov nodded and pointed to Red's hands. 

"You hands, when clasped, look like they would go around such a sword. I use whatever I can to my advantage as a knight, you know," Miklotov answered. 

Red looked at Miklotov's hands and noticed the same kind of position. "I'd definitely like to talk to you again," he said. 

Miklotov smiled again. "Tomorrow at the same time," he proposed. Red nodded. With one last look into Red's eyes, Miklotov left the store, reflecting over his actions at today's meeting. 

***** 

Miklotov shoved his fingers in his coat pocket, feeling for the coins he needed in order to purchase the sword he found yesterday in the store. Then lifting up the sword, he felt the handle one more time. Deciding that the purchase was worth the money, Miklotov approached the merchant. 

"Sorry I was late," Red yelled from the doorway. After the merchant handed him the change, Miklotov put the new sword in his knapsack and greeted his friend. 

"Hello, Red," he said. Red pointed towards the door and he nodded. After leaving the store, Miklotov asked, "Where are we going?" 

Red pointed towards the gates of Rockaxe. "I figured a spar would be fun. I haven't fought against a human in a while, and those monsters are really boring after a while," he replied. 

"That's fine," Miklotov said. "I haven't fought much besides other knights. I think a change of style would be fun." 

The two of them warmed up by running about a mile away from Rockaxe. Miklotov was envious of the long strides that Red employed effortlessly during the mile run. Though neither was tired, they both knew that the other was no joke. 

"Let's go until the first cut," Red suggested. "As in the winner is the first to cut the other person, or damage the armor. Of course, if he is skilled enough to knock the other's blade out, then he definitely should win," Red explained. Miklotov nodded and took his position opposite of Red. "Let's see who's better, the knight or the mercenary?" Red said. 

"The mercenary?" Miklotov wondered. He had no time to think more about that because the first clash of blades would occur in a few seconds. 

***** 

"Sorry to knock you out, man. I forgot that you trained like 5 hours before you came here. Though you still were a great sparring partner," Red said. Miklotov woke up and blinked at seeing the sun setting. 

"How long…" Miklotov wondered. Red helped him stand up and he took the time to stretch out his limbs. 

"An hour," Red replied. "Now don't feel bad or anything. I read through some parts of your books in your knapsack. _The Ultimate Test_ was my favorite when I was about five years younger. It's a little idealistic for my tastes now." 

"Oh…we should get back now. I think my roommate will be worried," Miklotov mumbled. Thinking of Camus made his head hurt a bit. "Ah…" 

"Don't think so hard, Mik," Red said. "We can walk back. I'll carry your knapsack, and you can lean on me." 

Miklotov nodded and allowed himself to be led towards Rockaxe and up to his room. Did he fall asleep? He remembered entering the castle, but not opening the door, because if he did, he would have remembered seeing Camus's face. 

***** 

Miklotov woke up again, not knowing where he was. He yelped when he noticed someone's arm around his waist, his very bare waist. What was worse, the man with him was also bare at the chest, which was pressing right into his back. What the hell? I wasn't drunk, was I? I didn't invite Red to sleep with me, did I? I didn't do anything…stupid, did I? 

The groan emitted by the person with him, though, betrayed the person's identity before Miklotov even shifted to look at the man. Camus? When was…Camus… 

The person beside him sat up, pushing Miklotov up as well. "Good morning, Mik. How are you feeling?" Camus asked. He brushed his own bangs away from his face before slowly pulling off the sheets. 

Miklotov panicked, not wanting to know what was under the sheets. "What happened?" he said. "Did I…did we…" His head hurt a bit, but it wasn't really a headache. 

"No, not that!" Camus exclaimed. "You fell asleep on your way up. Well, that's what Red told me." He watched as Miklotov's hand rubbed the sore spot on his head. "Did he beat you up? You had a bruise on your head. I'll get him for you if you want me to…" 

"Stop, Camus!" Miklotov shouted. "I met Red at the weapon shop two days ago." He paused to catch a breath. "We were sparring yesterday afternoon. He's a really nice guy." 

Camus did not look satisfied with that. "Well I want to see him," Camus insisted. Was Camus acting a bit…jealous? _Maybe he wants to find out my "weakness" from this guy._ Miklotov restrained from chuckling at that thought. 

"Uh, okay," Miklotov replied. "I'll tell him that when I see him today." Miklotov was not prepared to find himself barraged by a spout of angry words from Camus. Unfortunately Camus was not articulate enough for Miklotov to decipher what he had said. "What did you say?" he asked carefully. 

Camus blushed before forming a brilliant smile. "Nothing…" he said, faking cheer. Miklotov sighed, but decided not to bug him about it. After all, he did not like it when Camus did that to him. He let Camus slowly dress and comb his smooth hair as he lay back down on the bed. Camus took one last glance at Miklotov before giving a hand gesture. 

"Well, I'll see you later," Miklotov said after Camus left the room. _What's going on with Camus…_

***** 

Red stood by the same display as he did two days ago, his eyes glazing over the swords that Miklotov knew he really wasn't looking at. As soon as Miklotov was within talking distance, Red turned around and greeted him. Miklotov replied the gesture and the two exited the store. When they were outside, Red commented, "Hey, your friend is like paranoid or something." 

"What do you mean?" Miklotov asked genuinely. That particular word did not even enter his thoughts when he thought to describe Camus. Maybe there was a side he hadn't seen… _I'm doubting him again. What kind of trust is that?_ Though Camus did not feel that he could trust his secret, or whatever he mumbled this morning, with Miklotov, so Miklotov figured it was okay to doubt. 

"He almost killed me when I brought you to his room," Red had continued. "He accused me of beating you up. He threatened to kill me if I harmed you again." Miklotov was a bit surprised that Camus would go to that extreme. _Red was the one who brought me safely to my room._

"Oh," Miklotov managed to blurt out. "Well he should know that I can take care of myself," he said. _Though he is probably worried about me after that thing with Frank._

"I know," Red agreed. He dug a hole in the dirt with his right boot and added, "I would have just camped outside, but since you're a knight, you had to return." 

Miklotov nodded. "Well I missed my training before breakfast. I think a spar with you was worth missing one of those," he admitted. 

"So did I," Red confessed as well. Miklotov was surprised again, after believing that Red was much more experienced than him and thus probably fared much better. "I skipped my practice this morning. If you were stronger, you could have knocked me out by just crashing your sword against mine. I didn't even notice my own fatigue until I collapsed on my bed last night." 

After talking about more sword-related topics as well as battle strategies, Miklotov remembered the one thing Camus had asked him to do. "Well, anyway…would you like to go out tonight with my friend Camus?" he asked. "He won't be as bad as he was yesterday," he quickly added. 

Red seemed to mentally review his schedule before he nodded. "Sure," he said. "I'll get to see why you two are together," he teased. 

Miklotov, however, jumped at the word "together". "Together? Camus and I?" Miklotov questioned. 

"You don't believe me?" Red responded. "I can tell by the way he acts towards you," he stated. "It's so obvious." 

"But I confessed…" Miklotov protested. _And we haven't talked much since. He hasn't said anything back about liking me, so therefore…_

"He doesn't want to face it. Trust me, I know," Red replied. 

_Is he right? I wonder…_

To be continued… 


	8. The End

[The End] 

Miklotov ran his fingers through his hair as he watched his two friends glaring each other to pieces from across the table. He arranged it so that they could meet each other at a civil event, but both came in prepared to act less then friendly. Especially Camus. _For being the one who suggested the meeting, he should be the friendlier of the two._ Miklotov could not take the palpable hostility and decided to speak up. 

"Camus, don't glare at him. I know you guys didn't have the greatest first meeting, but you are both great guys. You can at least be polite," he said. 

Camus looked back at Miklotov, who was sitting next to Red, and said, "I think I should just leave you two alone." 

"What? You can't go, Camus," Miklotov protested, preparing to grab his arm if he decided to get up. With his eyes he tried his best to plead for Camus to stay. He didn't need another misunderstanding after the one that he initiated before. 

Finally Camus gave in. Seeing Camus's features relax again, Miklotov decided that he better strike up a conversation so that the glaring would cease for a while. He decided to bring up swords. He talked about the hand thing, and asked Red if he could try to figure out what sword Camus used. Conversation went smoothly, with a slight break when they ordered their meals. Miklotov was learning a lot from Red by just listening in to Camus and Red debate sword-fighting styles. The next thing he knew, the food had arrived steaming in front of them. Red decided that a break was needed and dug a fork into the pork. 

With a satisfied smile Red said, "Food's good. Maybe I should join the knights. Being a merc. isn't good pay." 

"But they…" Camus began to protest, but Red cut him off. 

"I don't kill people. Simple as that," he answered, knowing that Camus thought all mercenaries killed people. Miklotov knew that mercenaries worked for pay. He was surprised himself to hear that Red didn't kill people but relieved. _Camus by now should see that Red is just as honorable and as wonderful of a person as any other knight._

"Oh," Camus said dumbly after a pregnant pause. He looked down at his food, which Miklotov translated as a silent apology for his assumptions. The rest of the conversation picked back up as soon as all of the food had been scraped off the plates. Things were going well between Camus and Red, at least that was what Miklotov believed. With the introduction of a new conversation topic, Miklotov felt it was safe enough to leave the two alone while he took a trip to the bathroom. 

"Um, if you can excuse me, I need to go to the restroom. See you two in a bit," Miklotov announced before vacating his seat. Before entering through the door to the restroom, he glanced back at the table to see how it was going. _Good, they are getting along fine._ Miklotov went through the door with a smile. 

***** 

Miklotov didn't know how long he spent in the bathroom, but he sure had to pee. After straightening out his clothes and washing his hands and face, he dabbed some water on his hair to flatten it a bit. His face was a bit flushed, probably from the heat from inside the restaurant. Stretching out his limbs, he finally exited the bathroom. He headed towards his table in a daze, not really noticing the changes that occurred while he was gone until he sat down. Seeing the spot across from Red empty, Miklotov panicked. "What happened? Where's Camus?" he asked Red. 

"He's running away again. He went back to the castle," Red replied, fingering his napkin. Miklotov wondered at the choice of words, but he let it pass. 

"Oh…" Miklotov managed to utter after a bit of silence. Miklotov took a large gulp of water, draining his glass, and then tapped his fingers against the chair. It was strangely silent after Camus had left. 

Red broke the silence by putting his hand on Miklotov's shoulder. "Well, I have to leave tonight," he said. 

Miklotov knew that eventually he would leave, but he wasn't expecting it to be so soon. "Will I see you again?" he asked. 

"Sure, anytime," Red said, smiling. The two of them exited the restaurant, Miklotov paying for the dinner of course. 

"Well, then bye," Miklotov said hesitantly after a few seconds passed. Red smiled and waved back at him. 

"Bye," he responded before heading the opposite way. Miklotov watched Red leave for a few seconds before heading back to the castle. He did not expect, however, to almost run someone over once he was a few feet away from the restaurant. 

"Camus, what are you doing outside?" Miklotov asked after almost running into him. 

"Um, I was waiting for you?" Camus said in a rush, looking like he really did not know what he was doing. Miklotov interpreted it as some kind of cover up to something secret and wanted to know the answer from Camus himself. 

"Are you hiding something from me?" Miklotov said, with a silent request that Camus tell the truth. 

"No, nothing," Camus said evasively. Miklotov debated whether to allow Camus to slide once again and decided that he wanted answers, not just responses. 

"Camus, you asked me to be honest with you. Why can't you tell me?" he said. 

"It's not that…" Camus began, but Miklotov interrupted him. 

"It can't be worse than me telling you that I…thought of you in that way," Miklotov said. 

Camus considered that thought for a moment before defending himself. "Miklotov, you wouldn't understand," he stated. 

"Of course not," Miklotov replied somewhat sarcastically. "But you don't even give me a chance." 

"I understood how you felt when you told me that…" Camus responded, intentionally not describing what "that" was. 

"I guess," Miklotov conceded. He still wanted to what was bothering Camus, which he told Camus with a look. 

"Miklotov, trust me. I'll tell you soon," Camus added. He put his hand on Miklotov's shoulder, his hand resting there for a few seconds before pulling away. 

"Okay…" Miklotov replied, not looking up. _Well I'll let it slide tonight. But I'll want to know what it is tomorrow, Camus…_

***** 

Miklotov woke up the next day, determined to shake some answers out of Camus but instead encountered more mysteries. First of all, Camus's bed was empty and neatly made. Second, the birds were chirping loudly, signifying that he slept in past his usual morning training again. Thirdly there was some kind of message for Miklotov on his desk. "What's this? Is there a card for me?" he said aloud, opening up the envelope. 

_I wish to meet you at 7 PM tonight outside the castle for a dinner date. _

All my love, 

Your secret admirer 

"Nice writing, though it's not Camus's. I wonder who would..." Miklotov thought aloud to himself. Then putting the letter neatly back into its envelope and hiding it in his desk drawer, he smiled to himself. "Heh, secret admirer. Oh well, might as well see who it is." 

Miklotov attended his regular training session with the other blue knights and worked extra hard during the workout to make up for the morning's missed training. All clean after a bath, Miklotov found himself in his room, dressed and completely bored. 

"Nothing to do…Red's gone today," Miklotov said to himself. He remembered that the note said dinner at 7 PM. "I could go to sleep?" Miklotov thought. He decided that a nap wouldn't hurt him and crawled inside the covers to sleep. 

***** 

"Shoot, I'm late!" Miklotov exclaimed when he woke up a minute after 7. "My hair looks like it has been through a whirlwind." With a comb he quickly straightened out the knots in his hair and flattened it with some water. "He wouldn't mind me running out the door, would he? Wait, how do I know if it is a guy?" Miklotov grabbed the card from inside the desk and started to run out the door. "Well, if it is a woman, I'll just have to apologize," he said out loud as he ran down the steps. 

Probably only three minutes past seven o'clock, Miklotov stood panting outside the castle walls. After taking some deep breaths, Miklotov smoothened his clothes and his hair one last time before aimlessly pacing in front of the castle. 

"This is strange. The person is late. Even though it is five minutes…I thought the person wanted to see me…?" Miklotov said aloud to himself. He wondered if someone pulled a joke on him when he almost ran Camus over again. 

"Miklotov? What are you doing out here?" Camus said, one hand behind his back. _Maybe the date thing was set up by Camus? He looks kind of suspicious._

"Hi, Camus. I'm supposed to meet someone," Miklotov said, declaring his purpose outside right away, hoping that it might trigger some kind of response from Camus. 

"Me too," Camus replied. "Wait, are you meeting someone for a dinner date at 7?" 

"Yes. How did you know?" Miklotov said, pretending to be surprised but guessing that Camus knew about the date. 

"I think we were set up," Camus answered, surprising Miklotov. "You see, I got a letter too like the one you're holding." He held up the letter that seemed to have the same kind of stationary. 

"Really?" Miklotov uttered. "Let's see…" He took his letter out of the envelope and placed in next to Camus's. Camus grabbed Miklotov's letter and lined it up with his. Miklotov gasped. 

"They fit?" he uttered. 

"Like a puzzle. Looks like there is a secret message," Camus said, looking at the marks that formed letters when the two pieces of paper were lined up correctly. 

"Red. Just a push in the right direction," Camus read aloud. _Red? He did this?_ Miklotov was surprised that Red would involve himself in something like Miklotov and Camus's relationship. _Well he did think that we were in a relationship when I enlightened him…_

Miklotov woke out of his daze and noticed Camus staring at him. "Huh? Camus, is he talking to you?" he said. 

"Um, Miklotov…" Camus began, looking extremely uncomfortable. Miklotov decided to take the pressure off of Camus. 

"I don't mind going out on a date with you. I will finally find out what a good date should be like," Miklotov said with a smile. 

"Miklotov…" Camus sighed, but Miklotov ignored it. 

"You don't mind, right? It isn't romantic or anything…" he continued. 

"Miklotov!" Camus shouted. Miklotov almost jumped at the volume. 

"What?" Miklotov said. Camus looked strangely unlike himself as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

"Listen to me…I…" Camus began in a whisper before taking a deep breath. "I love you," he said confidently. 

Miklotov did not understand why that was so hard to say. "I know," he replied. 

Camus shook his head and moved closer to Miklotov. With his eyes staring straight into Miklotov's, he said, "No, the way you want me to…" 

"Camus?" Miklotov uttered before he felt Camus's heat flow into him from the arms that circled him and from the lips, which had captured his in a sweet kiss. Miklotov absorbed as much warmth as he can, relishing the sweet feeling of his first kiss by the man he loved. 

"So are you ready to go?" Camus asked when they finally broke apart. Miklotov noticed a slight redness tinting Camus's cheeks and wondered what color his face was. Miklotov, not wanting to leave the circle of Camus's arms, smirked. 

"Hold on," he said. 

"What is it, Mik?" Camus asked gently, his arms still around Miklotov's in a firm embrace. 

"Can you do that again? I'm not sure if I understood you completely," Miklotov whispered with a smile. 

"Sure, Mik," Camus winked. After another kiss they walked hand and hand to the restaurant, their first date as a couple. 

The End. 


End file.
